


Right, It's Just A Werewolf

by antic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Diners, Gen, POV Outsider, Suspicions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 20:45:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antic/pseuds/antic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything has a reasonable explanation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right, It's Just A Werewolf

When they first walked through the door, she could swear she swooned a little. In a small town like this you don't really get any new faces. Especially such wonderful faces. The short one was first to come it, except he wasn't short at all. It was the other one that was huge. Something in their stances seemed different, though, and she blushed as the realization hit her. It was the first time she saw any of _those_.

They sat in her section. Not like there were any other sections to choose from, but she liked to think so. Three years into college she never went to and she was still dreaming of the big world.

When they sat down on two other sides of the booth, their legs tangled under it. They were talking about something in hushed tones; the taller one seemed to be visibly aggravated by something. The pretty one was all smiles, like his – _lover's_? _boyfriend's_? – mood was the most amusing thing. She straightened her apron and fluffed her hair, even if it wouldn't have any effect. Old habits die hard. Introducing herself, she gave them the menus. They ordered right away, though, not even looking inside, too familiar with joints like that. The pretty one was most obviously ogling her throughout the process. Looking like that, she didn't mind at all. Then he winked and she blushed. Partially because an attractive guy like that was interested, partially because she was wrong before and he was interested at all. But really, she didn't have experience with that stuff and it's not like she said it out loud. And why else would two guys so handsome even drive through a crap hole like that together anyway?

So she got their orders – chicken salad and a cheeseburger with extra fries, two black coffees – and just rolled with it, flirting right back. She caught the taller one shaking his head with fond resignation at his friend's apparently usual antics. It didn't matter, one night would be more that enough if it ever even happened.

They spent their time talking, rustling through some papers and laughing – the pretty one – and trying to hide their smiles – the big one. Once it looked like they tried to make a call, but nobody answered and they left a message. Unfortunately, though, all too soon they stood up and left, leaving the diner eerily empty, despite the other patrons.

She went to collect empty cups and plates, noticing a way too generous tip. Smiling, she pocketed it and then noticed something grey under one of the napkins. Picking it up, she discovered a phone, BlackBerry, apparently. The big guy must've forgotten it in favor of sticking all the papers in his bag.

Grabbing the cell in order to call his friend, she realized she had no idea what their names were, so after a few seconds trying to figure out how to unlock the thing she scrolled through the list of latest calls. She assumed 'Bobby' was the one that didn't pick up before. The one under it simply stated 'D'. D for dad? Maybe it was the friend? It didn't really matter, she could just give heads up to whoever it was that knew the big guy and they'd somehow pass it on. She wondered if he already realized his phone was missing. Maybe they were on their way back for it?

Too tempted to miss out on the opportunity, she hunted down the media button and went through the pictures, expecting to see– she didn't know exactly, maybe just the kind of lives they led. She certainly didn't expect to see satanic symbols painted on walls by what seemed to be blood. When a gruesome, mutilated body appeared on screen she yelped, instantly covering her mouth and looking around if anyone saw. Yeah, nobody seemed to care.

God, and they looked so...

She didn't have time to finish that thought, when suddenly the phone vibrated in her hand and the name 'Bobby' flashed on screen, covering the corpse. Trying to calm her breathing, she answered shakily. Before she could even utter a word, the man was already speaking, voice gruff.

"Busy with phones," she heard what sounded like an excuse. "Now, 'bout that werewolf attack that's apparently not a werewolf, you said what about– "

"Hello," she finally choked out, steadily growing more sick. The voice stopped mid–sentence, shocked.

"Who is this?" he asked warily. "What are you doing with this phone?"

"I– " she tried, but it just wasn't going anywhere, so she started again. "He– They left it. Here. Diner. I mean I work here. And I found it."

For what seemed like hours there was nothing on the other side, the clanking of forks and a steady flow of discussions were dulling everything out. The man seemed to be considering something.

"I'll let 'em know," he said at last and the line went dead before she managed to answer. Still shaking a bit, she brought it down from her ear. The body was still dead, looking through the screen, through her, not seeing. Who were those guys? Should she call the police? She should definitely call the police. But before she had the chance, the bell at the entrance rang and she heard a low voice, almost familiar by now.

"Yeah, we know, Bobby," the man was saying on the phone. "Thanks," he snapped it closed and spotted her behind the bar. At first he smiled widely, but then he must've noticed how pale she looked. His gaze moved down to the cell she was still holding and his expression thinned. The big guy behind him looked guilty.

"Hi," the pretty one said. "I see you got his phone," he jerked his head in indication. "We want it back," he got dead serious in a blink of an eye and suddenly he wasn't a cocky womanizer anymore. He was a predator and she handed him the phone on pure instinct, forgetting about the picture currently on display. The guy noticed, then turned around.

"How many times do I have to tell you to delete this shit when we're done?"

The big guy switched from guilty to puppy dog in split second at that, grasping the phone protectively. The pretty one rolled his eyes.

"Sorry 'bout that," he said, looking her straight in the eyes, calming and serious, trustworthy. He pulled something out of his jacket pocket. She flinched automatically, assuming the worst. But it was just a black wallet. Or a badge, as it turned out when the guy flashed it in front of her face.

"FBI, I'm really sorry," he repeated. "But my partner over there," a small, controlled motion accompanied this statement. "Can get forgetful sometimes. Crime scene photos, you know how it is," he said it like she really would know. Like there was nothing weird with having bloody body parts stored in your phone memory.

"And the werewolf– " it was out of her mouth before she could stop it. The guy's expression didn't change at that, he just sighed, long–suffering.

"That’s what we call the guy," he explained. "Guts everywhere. The Werewolf, pretty morbid, huh?" he said and this time she heard the capital letter clearly. She nodded weakly. "Okay, glad we sorted that out," the pretty one said, smiled, turned on his heel, grabbed the big one and almost dragged him outside. She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and adjusted her skirt, trying to calm down. A reasonable explanation for everything. There always was a reasonable explanation. Of course they were FBI. And they were partners. No wonder she mistook them for a couple before, right? They worked together. They went through shit like that all the time, so they had to be in tune with each other. It made sense. She watched too much television. Which is why maybe it probably should’ve surprised her to never have found anything about any Werewolf in there; but it wasn't her job to know things like that. She was good at what _she_ was doing.

Everything had a reasonable explanation.

**Author's Note:**

> A little quickie written at the gym. Who would've thought they were so inspiring?


End file.
